The Kellerman Variations: Revenge
by Cucumber
Summary: Luther Mahoney has to die. And this time, it's not Mike Kellerman who kills him.
1. 1

"What are you going to do, read me my rights?" Luther Mahoney said and laughed.

"You have the right the remain silent—" Kellerman started to say, but was interrupted by the sound of the door being slammed open. He turned his head to look at who had come in, but never stopped aiming his gun at Mahoney.

It was two black men, both carrying Mac-10s gangster-style.

"You're dead, Mahoney!" yelled one of the men. "You're—" he was about to go on when he suddenly realized that he and his friend weren't the only people in the room with guns.

Everyone stood there, frozen, not exactly sure who would be the first to put down his gun.

The two men exchanged a nervous glance. "Come on, Clarence, let's get out of here," said the one who'd been silent until now.

"No! Shut up, Tyrell! Mahoney killed my brother! Antonio died in the street like a dog! I'm not leaving here without Mahoney's head!" Clarence said. His Mac-10 wavered and made everybody nervous.

Tyrell's own semi-automatic never budged, though his resolve did. "I don't know . . ." he said.

"Hey, guys, I'm Terri," Stivers said, trying to take advantage of Tyrell's doubts. She put her weapon back in its holster. She moved her jacket slightly so her badge would be in plain sight. "So far you haven't done anything wrong. Your weapons could be legally registered for all we know. We're here for Mahoney. If you walk away right now, we'll forget you even exist."

Tyrell was nodding. "Listen to the lady, Clarence. This is nuts. Even if you shoot Mahoney, these cops'll shoot you."

"That's right," Stivers said pleasantly. "And your momma don't need both of her boys dying in one day."

"But Mahoney killed Antonio for nothing! Someone set Antonio up! He was always straight with everyone!" Clarence sobbed. "He didn't deserve this!"

"As straight as a drug dealer could be," Kellerman muttered.

"What did you say?" Clarence said, his Mac-10 now pointing at Kellerman.

"Nothing," Kellerman said quickly.

"Yeah, well, maybe I should just kill all of you and then there won't be no witnesses."

"That's not a good idea, Clarence. Not too many people will cry if you shoot Mahoney. But if you shoot three cops too, you're going to be in for a world of hurt," Stivers said. "You can still put down your gun and walk away."

"No!" Clarence yelled.

And then time seemed to slow down for Kellerman. He could see the barrel of the Mac-10 being aimed at Mahoney. He could practically see Clarence's finger tightening around the trigger. He knew he'd never have enough time to swing around his gun and shoot Clarence, so he launched himself at him, hoping to knock him down before he could spray the room with bullets; a Mac-10 was hard to control.

Shots rang out. Tyrell, Stivers, and Lewis instinctively threw themselves on the floor.

Without looking to see if Clarence was all right, Tyrell scuttled out of the room on all fours, then everyone could hear him start running once he got into the hallway.

Stivers suddenly realized that she'd closed her eyes when the shooting had started. She opened them and saw Kellerman lying on top of Clarence, both of them very still, blood spreading on the floor.

Then Clarence moaned, but couldn't seem to be able to focus his eyes. But there was a red, round hole in Kellerman's back. "Officer down!" she screamed.

Now Lewis popped up. "What? No!" he said, running over to Kellerman. He turned him over and saw a large exit wound in his chest pumping out blood. That meant that Kellerman was still alive, his heart was still beating. But it wouldn't be for much longer if he didn't do something about it. Lewis yanked off his sport coat, wadded it up, and applied heavy pressure to the wound.

Stivers was just standing there beside him, gaping. "Damn, Terri, call this in, now! And then get Mahoney!" Lewis yelled.

Stivers took her radio out of her pocket and called for an ambulance. After she got confirmation that it was on the way, she surveyed the apartment. Bullet holes peppered the walls and the ceiling. She walked over to Mahoney, who looked like he'd almost been cut in two by the hail of bullets. Even before Stivers checked his pulse, she knew he was dead.

She stood there numbly, and let an EMT put a blanket around her when they arrived. They whisked Kellerman and Lewis away, and then checked Clarence's pupils.

"A mild concussion," a paramedic diagnosed. "He'll live."

And then they took him away too, leaving Stivers with Luther Mahoney's dead body. She'd have to wait for the medical examiner to arrive to pronounce him dead, and to talk to the Homicide detectives. This was a murder, after all.

She sat down heavily on Mahoney's couch and said a little prayer for Kellerman. She replayed the incident in her mind even though she hadn't seen it. But it was obvious what had happened. Clarence shot Mahoney. Mahoney had been trying to shoot back at him, but he got Kellerman instead. Despite everything, Stivers thought, Kellerman had tried to save Mahoney's life. While I just stood there, watching.

(more)


	2. 2

The whole Homicide squad was down at the hospital, waiting anxiously for Kellerman to come out of surgery. They assumed since the bullet had exited his chest, it wouldn't be so bad, but the doctor reported midway through the operation that the bullet had punctured and collapsed one of the Kellerman's lungs. However, he was optimistic that Kellerman would make a full recovery.

And yet, even though the operation was a success, hours later, Kellerman wasn't coming out from under the anesthesia. He was in a coma.

"The next forty-eight hours are crucial," the doctor said. "If he wakes up by then, he should be fine. But any more than that and there may be permanent brain damage. You can go in to see him one at a time. Talk to him. Hold his hand. People who have recovered from comas have reported being more aware of their surroundings than tests would indicate."

Kellerman's parents went in to see him first, and his mother came out crying. Then went Gee and the other detectives. Next was Julianna Cox.

She stepped into the private room and looked up at the beeping monitors. Kellerman's blood pressure and sinus rhythm looked good, under the circumstances.

She sat down next to his bed, then reached over and stroked his cheek tenderly. His skin was hot and feverish. "Don't die on me, Kellerman. We haven't gotten to know each other well enough, yet. I was going to send you flowers on Valentine's Day, you know. Lewis suggested it. But I didn't think you'd want them." Cox paused and took a breath that caught in her throat. "I should have, though. Maybe then you'd have known how much I care about you."

Cox got up, leaned over Kellerman, and kissed him on the mouth. Somewhere, deep down, the child inside of her was envisioning Snow White being awakened from her enchanted sleep by the kiss of the handsome prince. But instead of indulging in irrational hopes, Cox briskly walked out of the room and nodded to the next person waiting to go in. That person was Terri Stivers.

For a moment she hesitated. She even pushed the door open tenatively, like she was afraid of what she'd find. And even once she saw that Kellerman may not have looked great, but didn't look like he was on his deathbed either, she still kept her distance.

"I'm sorry, Kellerman," she said. "I mean, it's not really my _fault_ that you got shot, but I really thought I was getting through to them. I really thought that I could get them to put down their guns. I shouldn't have put my gun away. I should have been braver, like you. Narcotics is dangerous, you know. Probably more dangerous that Homicide. But in Narcotics, you're never alone. There's always back-up. Enough back-up to take down an army. I'm not used to working so independently. If this had gone down right, I was probably going to transfer into Homicide. Now I see I have a lot to learn before I can do that."

Stivers stopped talking, wondering if she'd said too much, even if it was to someone who couldn't really hear her. All she knew was that if Kellerman didn't live, she'd feel guilty for the rest of her life. She had been closer to Clarence, physically and mentally. She should have taken him down.

"Feel better," Stivers said quickly, and left the room.

Finally, it was Lewis's turn. He walked in like he was just on a visit with Kellerman on his boat.

"Hey, Mikey, you look like crap, you know that? But guess what, Mahoney looks worse. He is stone dead. His dying sure brought us a lot of work. All of his lieutenants are fighting to take over his operation. It's a bloodbath. We need every guy we got on the street, so you'd better come back soon."

Lewis paused.

"Why'd you do it, Mikey? Why didn't you just let Clarence shoot Mahoney? No, you had to go and play the hero. Clarence wouldn't have shot the rest of us, I'm sure of it," he said defensively.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Mahoney shot you with my gun, Mikey. My gun. You are not going to die from a bullet from my gun, you got that? You are going to live because you're the best cop I know. Sorry for the amateur analysis, but I just have to tell you that you're different from the rest of them. To Pembleton the job is about outsmarting the bad guys. To Bayliss it's about proving his own self-worth. For Munch sometimes it's just a way to pass the time between divorces. And for me? It was a way to get out of the ghetto.

"But you're different. You're a cop from your soul. You believe you have to do your part to tilt the world toward the good.

"So, my brother, my hero, say something. Tell me how stupid I was for beating up Mahoney." Lewis chuckled. "Naw, that's okay, I knew it all along."

Lewis took Kellerman's hand in both of his and held onto it. "You need to come back soon because if you don't, you'll wind up using all your vacation days," he said.

Despite the joke, Lewis left Kellerman's room with his hat in his hands, eyes glued to the floor. There was still blood beneath his fingernails that hadn't washed out. If Kellerman doesn't live, he thought, it never will.

THE END


End file.
